The Devil's Carnival
by MarcellusMiro66
Summary: "We all go a little mad sometimes." / Lincoln is trapped in an alternate dimension where eternal nights have plagued the world and monsters of all shapes and sizes have run amok. (A stylistic mixture of Alice in Wonderland, Ghost in the Shell, and Twin Peaks) Will be rated M!
1. Chapter 1: Lincoln

Hi, everyone, MarcellusMiro66 here! This is another _Loud House_ story, another potential Cartoon Crossover, and another series of interconnected short stories. The main genres are fantasy, supernatural, and action with a dash of martial arts / anime, horror, and musical for good measure.

In the midst of the infamous _Brawl in the Family_ episode, Lincoln is unceremoniously greeted by an ambush by his sisters (excluding Lily), who have all reached a common target (i.e., **That Engineer's** _Syngenesophobia_ ). When he lands in the hospital because of said ambush, he is spirited away to a certain kind of Hell for troubled young souls like himself.

The story's plot and style is inspired by _Psycho_ , _Twisted Nerve_ , _Suspiria_ , _Halloween_ , _A Nightmare on Elm Street_ , _Hellraiser_ , _Saw_ , and _Hostel_ among _many_ others, with references to _Alice in Wonderland_ , _Lady Snowblood_ , _Death Wish_ , _Taxi Driver_ , _Kite_ , and _Ghost in the Shell_. Expect numerous **Shout-Outs** to follow.

Enjoy! If you can...

* * *

 **Part #1: _Down The Rabbit Hole_**

 **(Friday, May 6th 2016)**

 **(6:00PM)**

 _ **Day 1. . .**_

Lincoln Loud's unconscious self laid on the hospital bed for almost six hours. Despite the hospital harboring some of the best doctors and nurses the entire city of Royal Woods could offer, they still couldn't revive him in the first five. Then, with a stroke of luck, his heart began to beat.

He wanted to _kill_ them. _He wanted to **kill** them. **He wanted to kill them.**_

If he got the chance, of course.

He didn't, however. Instead, he waited for the opportunity to strike. That, and he was tired. Tired from the brutal beat-em-ups inflicted upon him by his sisters. His _own sisters_ , damn it. For some damned reason, they beat him up. Obviously, they were angry with him. _Why_ they were angry with him, he didn't know. All he knew was this: their absolute anger was ten times (no pun intended) powerful than the video contest. He shuddered at the memory as he drifted back to sleep.

It was in his sleep that he realized the reason: the Sister Fight Protocol. He woke up to find Luna and Luan fighting over whether or not Lori and/or Leni were in the wrong, leading to incidental insults and the separation of the two; much like Lori and Leni's case, his room was used as a spot to house one of them temporarily. Lisa had told him that the fight has escalated, his panicking parents locking themselves in their room with Lily. The protocol was continued, but the two youngest twins (Lola and Lana) just had to cross paths with the two oldest (Luna and Luan), causing another fight. Lucy added on by criticizing Lynn for "slacking on the job", Lisa now frightened by this overblown disaster joining in the fight as well. Unsure what to do, Lincoln could only flee the house for the rest of the day. Little did he know, the sisters had reached an exact epiphany. It wasn't a good one.

 _Not... **One**... **Bit**._

Lincoln could only realize his regret as he silently sobbed himself to sleep.

* * *

 _Outside..._

 _"I should've done something, Lynn..."_

Lynn Sr. turned towards Rita, _"What?"_

 _"I should've done something to prevent Lincoln from getting hurt..."_

 _" **We** should've done something, Rita. It's not your fault..."_

 _"You're right, honey. It's **ours**. We should've been much more responsible parents. Not just us, but...our daughters. Lily aside, they're all...disobedient. Distrusting. Dangerous..."_

Rita buried his hands in her face upon realizing what she was saying, _"Oh, what am I saying? Then I'll be no better than the rest of them, my own daughters."_

 _"That's right, honey. It's nobody's fault here. However, our daughters had a decision to choose from; they chose to hospitalize their only brother and our only son. They need to be punished."_

 _"You're right."_

* * *

 **(Friday, May 13th 2016)**

 **(6:00PM)**

 _ **Day #8. . .**_

The first week had passed by like a speeding bullet. Lincoln Loud never seemed to wake up from his circulating coma, the term "coma" being used _very_ loosely here. Having coming to terms with their near fatal flaw (a mere few minutes after, no less), his sisters came to visit him in the hospital, but his parents refused to let them near - not out of spite, but out of fear. They feared of not what would happen to Lincoln if they were near, but of what would happen to _their daughters_ if _he_ was near. They did, however, let the rest of Lincoln's friends (Ronnie Anne and Clyde included) slide; they were currently debating whether of not _that_ was a mistake. Ronnie Anne was angry that she threatened to fight Lynn after school next Friday, whilst Clyde was _so_ angry that _he_ threatened to have a restraining order filed upon and _only_ Lori.

Lincoln himself didn't mind. As long as he had peace and quiet with no disturbances, he would recover just like that.

He almost gave away his act when he caught wind of the punishments given out to each of his sisters (Lily not withstanding). He didn't spat out a sour something like **_"Ha! In your fucking faces, bitches!"_** No, he would do nothing of the sort.

Hell, he wouldn't even _hurt a fly..._

Besides, he still had to latch onto the fact that this entire mess was that much of his fault as his sisters. Still, did they really have to beat him up out of revenge? He was pretty sure that act qualifies as overreacting. Still, _he_ was the one who didn't stop himself before butting in his two eldest sister's debacle. Case in point...

Why else would he be here now?

* * *

 **(Friday, May 20th 2016)**

 **(7:00PM)**

 _ **Day #15. . .**_

The second week had passed by like a bullet train. Lincoln Loud never left the comfort of his hospital bed; the rare time he did, he said nothing. He would only nod and shake his head. Any visiting psychiatrist would immediately identify this as a sign of recovering from shock. The thought of one being beat by that one's own sibling was enough for even the calm and collected ones to explode in fury and horror. _'_ _Horror... Oh, the horror!'_ Lincoln thought as he stood up from bed, attracting the attention of a young nurse. Said young nurse helped him up after he explained the "situation" beforehand.

 _'Oh, the stereotypical nurse that would exist in your wildest fantasies. Blonde hair, white outfit, and the bombshell blue eyes; what's not to like? And to **fuck** , too? She seemed around Lori's age. I bet she can handle the pressure, assuming that she's a big girl...unlike those blonde bimbos and brunette bitches that I call my sisters - well, not including Lily, of course - and the Mexi **cunt** of my so-called girlfriend. I want a lover, not a beater.'_

Lincoln arrived at the bathroom a lot sooner than later and was ushered inside by Nurse Crane, who smiled sincerely at him as the door closed. He went Number One and washed his hands before his face. The mirror he chose to gaze his reflection into had a monster's face scribbled into it, his own face corresponding to create an equal image. _'Is that what I am? Am I destined to become a... **A monster?** It's certainly conceivable from what sins I've committed; my own selfish actions had led me down this path of darkness that I'm doomed to reside in for the rest of my heartless life.'_

Cue the monotone Mood Whiplash.

 _'Then again...there's always Cristina.'_

* * *

 **(Friday, May 27th 2016)**

 **(6:00PM)**

 _ **Day #22. . .**_

The third week...was actually slow and sluggish to say the least. It was certainly a first in the first two weeks since his hospitalization. Rule of Three states, however, that after three strikes...something's bound to happen.

Well, something _did_ happen.

And it was _not good_.

 _ **"Lincoln's gone!"**_

 _ **"WHAT?!"**_

 _ **"Lincoln's gone, sir! His room has been rummaged through, and there's blood everywhere - ! OH, GOD!"**_

 _ **"What's the matter? Oh... JESUS CHRIST!"**_

Nurse Crane laid there on the floor, her naked body covered with cuts and sprinkled with slashes. Bruises and whip marks complimented the pivotal part of the crime scene to behold. Whoever did this to her took Lincoln.

Of course, _that part_ would be obvious.

* * *

 **(8:00PM)**

 _ **Hour #2. . .**_

 _Lincoln's eyes fluttered open and he saw nothing but black...pitch black. When he breathed, a swirl of air accompanied it. 'Okay, Lincoln. You're in a cold place. A VERY cold place. Keep calm and stay warm.' He actually was. He glanced down and took in the clothes he was wearing now. It was a dark blue leisure suit with a blondish long-sleeve collared shirt, a matching tie in a Windsor Knot, and a pair of black ankle boots. Not straying from the topic of black, a jet-black trench coat was hung on a coat rack with others; by the coat rack near the wall was a worktable with - among other objects - a rectangular box in front display. His curiosity getting the best of him, Lincoln approached the table and shifted the box to where it faced him. Pulling the cover open, his curiosity only increased even further when he laid his pair of eyes on the contents: a Beretta 92FS Centurion, a Galco Royal Guard Inside-The-Waistband holster, and a small box of bullets._

 _Lincoln cocked his head in confusion as to why a handgun and additional ammunition would be left unattended or (presumably) left for him to (presumably) use. He never used a gun before, nor had no current desire to do so. Still, he took into account that he was in a VERY cold **and** dark place, both of those factors combined making for a VERY unpleasant **and** uncanny experience. For that very reason, Lincoln took the handgun and its bullets. He also donned the jet-black trench coat, which he hid the box in; after loading the Beretta, which he also tucked away in the IWB holster, he glanced around and settled back on the coat rack, contemplating whether or not he should take the rest of the clothes. He eventually decided against it, believing that he was warm enough. No door in sight, Lincoln climbed out of the only window, landed on the snowy streets, and ran off to get a good start. He remained unaware that another formed to the right of it._

 _Lincoln was hellbent to figure where he was and why to even notice, however._

* * *

 **(10:00PM)**

 _ **Hour #4. . .**_

The Royal Woods Police Department had been trained to handle certain situations with certain grisly subject matters. They were trained to handle double homicides, gang shootouts, and even _child molestation sites_. To say that they were undoubtedly unprepared would be the ultimate understatement of the 21st century.

 _"Oh, to hell with it. I'll just GET OUT and say it: they were **totally unprepared!** "_

The senior detectives stood there with their jaws hanging and daring to scrap the hospital floor, the rookie detectives stood there with their jaws hanging and _actually_ scrapping the hospital floor as they vomited out of disgust, the other officers just stood there. While they expressed shock and stress, they didn't explicitly do so. Instead, they meticulously masked it with an absolutely apathetic appearance as they examined the crime scene. One of them broke away from them as he approached the Loud Family, specifically the parents, and discarded her formerly emotionless exterior, reverting to an interested interior,

"Well...it's nothing we've ever seen before, I'll tell you that."

"What happened?" The mother Rita approached the detective, the youngest daughter Lily in her arms, "Where's my son?"

"I honestly have no idea, Mrs. Loud." The police detective shook her head in uncertainty, but attempted to reassure her when she noticed her despondent demeanor, "Don't worry. We'll find your son as soon as we can. I can tell you this: whoever - or _whatever_ \- hurt the nurse didn't seem to hurt your son. This doesn't rule out the possibility of the man - or _creature_ \- being extremely dangerous."

"Just please... _Please_ find my son." Rita felt her husband Lynn Sr.'s hand of reassurance being placed on her shoulder. He stepped forward and tilted his head,

"Officer...how do you know the thing who took our son and raped that nurse is not a _mere man_?"

The police detective merely shrugged in response, "Just a _mere hunch_."

* * *

 **(12:00M)**

 _ **Hour #6. . .**_

 _Six hours. Lincoln was stuck here for six **fucking** hours. He ran down the current street he was on and slowed down to a stop. His eyes were tearing up, considering that six hours of loneliness could do things to you. He was full of despair, hopelessness, and...regret. The same feeling he felt whilst in the hospital. Was he really doomed to this fatal fate? Was it really too late to make amends? Was the frightful fantasy really a reviled reality consisting of his devilish demons?_

 _Six hours. Lincoln was stuck here for six **fucking** hours. He could only fall down to his knees and scream out in anguish:_

 ** _"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?! I'M JUST AN ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD BOY, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"_**

 _That, and he subsequently curled into a ball and continued his crying. For approximately five minutes._

 _"Are you okay, dear?"_

 _Lincoln's ears perked up and his head shot up in alarm, swiftly spinning around for any sign of life besides himself, "Who's there?"_

 _"Right behind you, dear."_

 _Lincoln turned around and glanced up at the source of the voice. He wasn't shaken by the fact that the voice's source was a real-life ghost; no, he was shaken by the form that this particular ghost decided to take. It was an anthropomorphic pig with pear green eyes and a jet-black sparkle-sprinkled performance outfit with a peacock tail._

 _"I'm being serious, though. Are you okay?"_

 _Lincoln blinked in bewilderment, "Yeah..." Before he fainted into unconsciousness._

 _The pig blinked in bewilderment as well, "It must be the outfit..." Before he floated down to his level and attempted to wake him up._

 _"Umm, sweetie...? Sweetie...? I'm sorry if I scared you like that... If you want, I can just change into another outfit - "_

 _It would too certain to call it a coincidence when Lincoln suddenly jolted awake by the time that request left her mouth. He looked around and found the pig in his view, his eyes blinking in bewilderment just as before. He slowly stood up and backed up, his hands raised in insistence,_

 _"Okay. So...you're real, and so is this place."_

 _"Yes, but this does **not** mean that I'm going to hurt you."_

 _"I don't know that."_

 _"Of course you do; I just told you just ten seconds ago."_

 _"...Oh. Well, in this case, do you know where I am?"_

 _"...Well, to be honest, I don't know. We've been here for two nights now, so... My best guess is that this place is a certain kind of Hell."_

 _"...Well, that's neat. Wait... **We've**? There's more of you?"_

 _"Yes. They're...my family of sorts. We met just a few months ago. Despite that, we were tight like glue and would protect each other no matter what. ... Did you have a family?"_

 _"..." Lincoln had trouble saying either "Yes" or "No", so he settled on an "I used to."_

 _Her expression softened even further and knew she could relate, "Oh, you poor thing. Come on, we have to seek shelter; there's a snowstorm heading our way."_

 _Lincoln nodded in agreement, following the pig as she walked north, "So, do you have a name?"_

 _"Yes, ma'am. It's Lincoln, Lincoln Loud."_

 _The pig smiled the warmest smile this winter could offer, "Mine's Rosita. Rosita Chavez."_


	2. Chapter 2: Cristina

**Part #2:** ** _Through The Looking Glass_**

 **(Friday, May 27th 2016)**

 **(6:00PM)**

 _ **BANG!**_

 _Cristina stopped dead in her tracks just as she reached the cliff side. The hillbillies chasing her also stopped dead in their tracks just when they caught up to her. All three wore the same expression on their faces: horrified shock._

 _"What...did...you...make...me...do?" Hillbilly #1 enunciated to Hillbilly #2 before screaming, **"WHAT DID YOU MAKE ME DO?!"** in terrified rage._

 _ **"HEY! YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO ACTUALLY DOESN'T BOTHER TO CHECK THE GUN'S SAFETY!" **Hillbilly #2 snapped back before turning to a crippled Cristina, "Hey, miss... Are you okay?"_

 _Cristina glanced down, seeing her clothes seeping with blood around the stomach area, and right back up; she slowly nodded and stumbled backwards._

 ** _"No. No! NO!"_**

 _Cristina fell.._

 _...and fell..._

 _...and fell..._

 _...and fell._

 _Did she ever stop?_

 _Actually, she did._

* * *

 **(8:00PM)**

 _ **Hour #2. . .**_

 _Cristina's eyes fluttered open and she saw nothing...nothing but pitch black. A swirl of air accompanied her deep breath. 'Alright, Cristina. You're in a cold and dark place. A VERY cold and dark place. Keep calm and stay warm; you'll be fine.' She actually didn't feel cold, save for the sensation of being shot earlier. Why didn't she...?_

 _Cristina's eyes widened as she glanced down again. She wore no longer her bloodstained navy blue blouse; a periwinkle dress with a low cut neckline, short sleeves, aqua waistband/border on her bottom skirt, and black Mary Jane shoes were in its place. As she reached to touch its texture, she gasped in shock and gazed at her hands. They were white, smooth, and - when she rubbed them together - china. Was she..._

 _A china doll?_

 _'Ceramic porcelain,'_ _Cristina thought to herself, 'I would be ceramic porcelain.'_

 _Cristina glanced around and, luckily enough, there was a mirror on display. She stood up from the floor and came in front view of the mirror; her jaw hung slightly agape when she laid her eyes on her physical appearance. She was indeed a china doll, albeit small and slender, with blue eyes and indigo linings on each end of her joints._

 _'So, it's true. I really am a...china doll. A fragile, helpless... **china doll**...'_

 _Cristina took deep breathes in order to prevent hyperventilation. It's just like she said - or, in this case, thought - earlier: keep calm and stay warm. Turning to her left, she saw the same coat rack and worktable Lincoln laid **his** eyes on (of course, she didn't know this yet); a rectangular box was displayed on said worktable. Like Lincoln, curiosity got the best of Cristina as she walked over to the table. Opening up the box, she tilted her head in turmoil upon the contents: a 3rd Generation Glock 21 and a Walther P99, each with additional ammunition, spare suppressors, and dual Blackhawk Serpa holsters. W_ _hy a handgun and additional ammunition would be left unattended or (presumably) left for her to (presumably) use, despite the fact she had never used a gun before, nor had no current desire to do so? Then again, she took into account that he was in a VERY cold **and** dark place, both of those factors combined making for a VERY unpleasant **and** uncanny experience. Cristina took the handgun and its bullets for this very reason. _

_Cristina walked to the coat rack and confiscated a cape of blood red. Slipping on the holstered handguns, she donned the red hood and climbed out the [right] window upon finding no door in sight. Not noticing yet another window forming to the left of the first (and formerly only) window, she was too determined to figure out where she was and why to even do so._

 _Cristina didn't even notice the second ghost trailing behind her._

* * *

 **(10:00PM)**

 _ **Hour #4. . .**_

 _The second ghost watched as Cristina aimlessly ran around in search of life and help, wondering when and/or if the message received wasn't getting through her thick head. It chuckled at the irony: a china doll having a thick head, because - Oh, never mind. It pursued said china doll while carefully hiding itself from her. As it did, it couldn't help but feel sorry for the young girl who seemed full of helplessness and hopelessness. Believe me..._

 _She felt the same way._

 _She remembered the way she felt when **he** and **she** were caught making music together. She remembered the way she felt when she ordered **him** and **her** out of her house. She remembered the way she felt when **he** forced his way back inside the house  and herself. She remembered the way she felt when she heard authorities, to **his** dismay, arriving too little, too late. She remembered the way she felt...before she died and **she** lived._

 _She was no longer the girl chained to love._

 ** _Senseless, useless, and meaningless LOVE._**

 _She had set it all free._

* * *

 **(12:00M)**

 _ **Hour #6. . .**_

 _Six hours. Cristina was stuck here for six **damning** hours. Now, she rarely cursed, but she was at her wit's end, giving her a very good enough reason to scream psychotic profanities into the heavens. This was not that time. Not yet. The time was used to softly sob into her hands before slowly screaming into her hood. _

_Now_ _, she screamed psychotic profanities into the heavens._

 ** _"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS PLACE?! WHY THE HELL AM I HERE? WHAT THE FUCK AM I? WHY THE FUCK AM I LIKE THIS?"_**

 _The cries of Cristina increased tenfold and she knelt down to her knees before curling up into a ball. Her six-minute sobbing subsequently subsided as soon a soft, soothing voice was accompanied by a mellow guitar:_

 ** _"Trust in me, just in me. . . Close your eyes, and trust in me. . ."_**

 _There must've been something in the song that calmed her fears and worries, as she slowly sat/stood up at the woman's soft singing voice. The song was beginning to place her in a deep trance of sorts - Wait. She **was** in a deep trance. She was being hypnotized!_

 _'Oh, my goodness! I **am** being hypnotized!'_

 _Cristina's vision suddenly became blurred and swirled, a rainbow of multiple colors (along with their different shades) corrupting it. She stood still once the hypnosis was close to finished:_

 ** _"You can sleep. . .safe and sound. . . Knowing I. . .am around. . ."_**

 _A dopey smile crossed Cristina's face as she swayed back and forth. The ghost came out of her hiding place and carried the china doll in her arms:_

 ** _"Slide in a sleep of silence, swim on a silver bliss. . . Slowly and surely, your senses will cease and desist. . ."_**

 _The ghost smiled sincerely, a tear sliding down their cheek; she had no bad intentions when it came down to this:_

 ** _"Just unwind, be at rest. . . In my arms, be my guest. . ._** ** _"_**

 _Cristina curled up in the ghost's arms, relaxing herself in its safety:_

 ** _"Trust in me, just in me. . . Close your eyes and trust in me. . ."_**

 _Cristina was carried away to the secret hideout by the ghost, "Trust in me..._ _"_

* * *

 _At the same time..._

 _Lincoln and Rosita arrived at the latter's safe haven, an abandoned theater aptly titled 'Moon Theater' on 551 Echo Street. She was in the process of giving the rundown of how this dimension worked:_

 _"So...it's always night **and** winter here?"_

 _"Apparently so, based on what I've seen here so far. Bear in mind, we've been here for two nights now..."_

 _"Yeah, that would make sense now."_

 _" **Now**? What happened **before**?"_

 _"Nothing really important."_

 _"So something did happen?"_

 _"...Yeah."_

 _"Hmm. You hesitated."_

 _"No, I didn't."_

 _"Lincoln, no matter what you do, no matter how you try...you just can't fool me. Whenever someone tells me a lie, I find out the truth...no matter what. I'm not saying this to scare you, but to help you. That's what I want now: to help you. I just can't help you if you can't help me."_

 _Lincoln somehow grasped onto that tone Rosita emitted; it was the same motherly tone his own mother chastised him with. Rosita's, however, was much more soothing in sharp contrast with hers. He almost didn't hesitate because of this:_

 _"A few weeks ago, there was this fight between my two older sisters. It was nothing, a fight over the same dress they both bought. I thought if I had done something and intervened, they would've stopped fighting. Instead, I made things even worse than before, my other sisters fighting among themselves. So, I step out of the house for a little bit; I come back...and somehow end up in the hospital."_

 _Her motherly instincts kicking into overdrive, Rosita drew a sharp gasp and placed her hand over her mouth in revulsion, "They didn't...?"_

 _"They did." Lincoln teared up at the memory, prompting Rosita to deliver a heartfelt hug; the boy reluctantly relented and embraced it, "I messed up, Miss Rosita. If I hadn't intervened in my sisters' argument, I wouldn't be here now."_

 _"Hey, don't say that. You were only trying to help; if your sisters can't see that, then that's their fault - not **yours**."_

 _Lincoln didn't respond, tightening the hug even further but not too tight to crush her. Rosita now remembered how it felt like._

 _"Thank you..." She could hear him murmur under his breath. A small yet substantial smile crossed her face as she returned the hug this time._

 _"Come on, let's head inside." Rosita took Lincoln's hand with her own, leading him inside the Moon Theater._


	3. Chapter 3: The Major

**Part #3:** ** _Enjoy The Silence_**

 **(Saturday, May 28th 2016)**

 **(8:00AM)**

 _The year was 2016. The month was May. The day was the 28th. The location was Tokyo, Japan. The time was 8 in the morning, a cloudy morning as well._

 _A total of 16 sharply-dressed slayers against 1 average-dressed assassin. Who would've thought?_

 _In Minowa Station, one of many subway stations operated by Tokyo Metro, the masked mercenaries held a total of 95 businessmen and women hostage in the platforms. They checked and cocked their commandeered M4A1 Carbines, the five main murderers wielding a Beretta 92FS, SIG-Sauer P229, Glock 19, Jericho 941 R, and a Heckler & Koch USP Compact. The leader, as well as his concealed comrades, was an American - in sharp contrast to the Japanese citizens being held hostage._

 _"We know who you are, Aiko!" The leader shouted, his shouts bouncing off the wall. "Show yourself, or we'll start shooting!"_

 _ **BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**_

 _Alas, she started shooting first, " **BANG!** "_

 _'Ten more.' "Aiko" leapt from her hiding place and fastened her firing on the remaining ten before the Fab Five, holstering her handgun in favor of good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat. The men (and only woman, as per the Smurfette Principle) really did put a decent fight, but her Tranquil Fury provided her with a distinct advantage. She seemed to hate the leader for some reason because, after finishing off the final four, overkill was underrated in this case. He stabbed the man's ribs and neck, snapped an arm and a leg, and kneed him in the nuts before kicking him down, a screaming wreck left in her wake. (The screams were in pain, not fear.)_

 _"Aiko" drew her service sidearm of choice, a customized Springfield Armory TRP Operator, and aimed it at the only one's head:_

 _"I know what you're thinking, girl. You're probably thinking: **'What the hell am I doing here?'** To be honest, I'm actually thinking the same thing. I never wanted for this to happen. This violence, this bloodshed...it means nothing less of shit to me. I'm only doing my job whenever I kill someone. My job belongs to that of Rikona Robotics - ring any bells? If so, you must realize this: you're just an accident waiting to happen. You have outlived your usefulness. Because of that, the agency doesn't need you **or** want you anymore. You're finished, being let go, part of an outward replacement. The only question without an answer that remains... What are you going to do about it?"_

 _"Aiko" blankly blinked in immense indifference, her amazing ability of masking certain explicit emotions on full display here. She was still in shock because of this revelation though. "Why would you care?"_

 _"... No reason. You were a daughter to me as you were a sister to my teammates. You know, the ones you know no less than a minute ago?"_

 _"Aiko" blinked in bewilderment this time, something the man noticed, "Oh, so you things are capable of feelings. A testament to how far the agency has fallen, Aiko, and you can't bring it back up."_

 _The robot blinked once more, her irises reverting from a bright blue to a dark red, "We'll see in time. Oh...and I prefer... **'Mia.'** "_

 ** _BANG!_**

* * *

 **(6:00PM)**

 _Kiyoko Kurosawa was, true to her name, was a child of purity and clarity. It may because of this that her childhood/beginning of her rise to prominence was off to a rough start. The icing of the cake of catastrophe? She only reached an understanding of her parents when they were on the brink of death. They loved her even when she never did love them back. The one regret stuck out like a sore thumb for the ten years following their deaths, five more when she was named the CEO of Rikona Robotics. If curiosity is getting the best of you, then you get the best of curiosity. Long story short, she swore revenge._ _Luckily for her..._

 _Boss Shimizu was a pedophile._

 _At age nine, her parents was murdered. At age eleven, she got her revenge._

 _Impaled with extreme prejudice was one way to go out._

 _Kiyoko entered her office and continued to walk inside, despite being slightly scared at her apprentice's abrupt appearance. "I take it the mission went well?"_

 _"... To an extent."_

 _"What happened? Were you hurt?"_

 _"I was...in both ways."_

 _Kiyoko recoiled in fear and sympathy for her preteen pupil, "I take it you found out?"_

 _"... In a sense. The agency was going to dispose of me after my final missions were accomplished. True or false?"_

 _"... Both. We were going to decommission you, but not out of greed."_

 _Kiyoko approached Mia and turned her around, placing both hands of reassurance on both shoulders of sorrow: "Aiko...you're not the first of your kind. You are, however, one of the first successful."_

 _"Maybe next time, you can design the subsequent ones better."_

 _"One can only wish." Kiyoko and Mia couldn't help but crack a chuckle at this. The cyborg sighed in sadness nonetheless, prompting a hug from her mentor._

 ** _BOOM!_**

 _Mia and Kiyoko broke away from their hug upon hearing the explosion that echoed all the way to the top floor. The latter grimaced at the rather redundant robbery, walking over to her desk and pressed a button; that button activated a katana and a Glock 18C which sprung up from beneath the floor. Catching both weapons in midair, Kiyoko then turned to Mia,_

 _"They're looking for you. You need to leave."_

 _"No..." Mia's eyes suddenly teared up and she instantly wiped them away, "No, Miss Kurosawa. You can't. I want to fight."_

 _"I don't want your help, Mia. I want you safe."_

 _Kiyoko wanted to regret having used her apprentice's birth name, but time was of the essence here, "I'll be okay."_

 _Mia blinked and, upon her eyes watering up, wiped them away again. She ran over and gave Kiyoko one last hug before she reluctantly broke from it. As she did, her mentor pressed another button on her desk, sending Mia down and down into the darkness. A soft and solemn silence accompanied her all the way down._

 ** _("Enjoy The Silence" - Depeche Mode) [KI Theory Remix]_**

 _(Interspersed Cuts:)_

 _It pained Kiyoko to say goodbye to Mia, but she had to; she couldn't risk placing her apprentice - no, her **daughter** \- in harm's way. She just couldn't. Mia herself couldn't bear the thought of losing her mentor - no, her **mother** \- in the face of battle. She didn't wipe away her tears this time, letting them flow down her face as she buried it into her hands. Back at the top, Kiyoko was finishing deleting all classified files on her computer's database. While at it, she heard the gunfire and explosions come closer and closer._

 _" **In**_ ** _the silence, words like violence. . ._ _Come crashing in, i_** _ **nto this little world. . .** "_

 _Mia found herself singing at a time like this, she too hearing the shots fired and booms exploding even closer than before._

 _" **Blow right through me, painful to me. . . I wish you can understand, Oh my little girl. . .** "_

 _Kiyoko found herself as well as she readied her uncle's Glock 18C and her aunt's katana._

 ** _BOOM!_**

 _The doors were blown open, the smoke filled the room, and the soldiers came marching in. Kiyoko defiantly stood her ground as the armored assassins aimed their Heckler & Koch G36C carbines at her. 'British service? Here in Japan? My lucky day.' She lunged forward and swung her sword at them, slicing and dicing 10 soldiers while mowing down 10 more. Her total kill count in the first wave? 20. Her total kill count in the second wave? 40. Her total kill count in the third and final wave? 60._

 _120 dead British soldiers laid dead on the floor, a puddle of blood surrounding each and every one of them._

 _[*Clap, clap, clap, clap*]_

 _"Bravo, Miss Kurosawa. Bravo indeed."_

 _"John Lancaster." Kiyoko muttered under her breath the dreaded name of her English adversary as she turned around to face him. He stepped forward with his cane as she continued, "If I recalled correctly, you promised to keep the British troops off Japanese soil. I suppose promises can be broken."_

 _"You recall correctly as you suppose correctly, Miss Kurosawa. Alas, David didn't see the full potential the British could expand upon and exiled himself from the utopia that I intend to bring to not just Britain, but the entire world."_

 _"At least David had the gift of foresight to avoid a nuclear wasteland. You're not a mystic...but a maniac in the Countre Terrorism Unit's director's body."_

 _"A maniac, am I? Better than a mercenary, Kurosawa, as were your parents. Your parents were already dead. They've been long dead since Amir gave us the call."_

 _"Dead...something you and I will be soon enough."_

 _"Ah, so you are ready to accept your fate?"_

 _"... I've been long ready to join my parents after avenging them. Not that you would know of it."_

 _"Hmm. No wonder why my brother always preferred you."_

 _John immediately cut the chatter and annulled his act, unsheathing his cane to reveal a sword of his own. He then drew his SIG-Sauer P229R, taking a fighting stance and match his rival. Miyoko mimicked John's actions with her Glock 18C and katana to match her enemy._

 _Kiyoko and John charged at each other and their blades clashed; during this diminutive duration, both attempted to take a shot and only slightly succeeded. The latter was the first to fire, the former was the second to shoot: both felt the bullets whiz past the other's face. Their swords sliding away, the battle of the blades continued. It was they which inflicted injuries rather than the firearms. A cut to the chest and a slash to the stomach eventually befell Kiyoko and John, respectively. Their Kali skills intact, the female in this case proved to be far superior than the male in spite of the male delivering a fair fight. Both fought with honor, however._

 _Kiyoko suddenly gasped sharply and slowly glanced down to find that John's sword had impaled her stomach. He smirked a devilish smirk and backed away, leaving the blade embedded in her chest area._

 _"Shame, Kurosawa. Defeating your rival may not be your specialty after all. Well, at least you'll be joining your parents." As he turned away to walk away, John heard a " **WHOOSH!** " too little, too late. He too elicited a sharp gasp and glanced down to find that her katana had pierced him through the back._

 _"It actually is, John." John turned around to find Kiyoko still standing, a detonator clutched tightly in her right hand. **His** detonator._

 _"A sword for a sword, don't you believe?" Kiyoko smiled as she pushed on the detonator button hard._

 ** _"NOOOOOO!"_**

 ** _BOOOOOOM!_**

 _The explosives that were placed all over the building were detonated all at one. Rikona Robotics - **half of it** , at least - was destroyed._

* * *

 _Mia stumbled before she regained her footing, a result of the extreme explosions that leveled the building. She desperately hoped that Miss Kurosawa survived the break-in. If not, well...who knows how long she could hold up under those circumstances._

 _Mia reached the floor level of the hideout and was greeted by a neon flash of blue. Glancing around, she didn't recognize the room in the slightest. She took a step forward and a pad below her glowed white; with every step forward, another pad glowed white. The last pad revealed a computer that stretched to each half of the room. A password was needed, and Mia knew none. Unless..._

 _'Well, THAT one worked.'_

 _Mia gazed at the computer as it turned on._

 ** _"Welcome, Mia Knight. We've been expecting you."_**

 _Mia cocked her head in confusion, "Who are you? **What** are you?"_

 ** _"I am ARIA - the Advanced Robotics and Intelligence Architect. I am a piece of artificial intelligence designed by a team of renegade FBI, CIA, NSA, and MI6 agents seeking justice for the deaths of their families at the hands of their superiors. I was designed to target the head of the agencies and expose the threats they pose to society."_**

 _Mia frowned as she nodded in understanding, "... Was my boss - Kiyoko Kurosawa - one of those agents?"_

 _ARIA "blinked" twice, **"Yes...she was."**_

* * *

 **A/N** : A "Mia Knight / Aiko" centric chapter, this is the first of many inspired by _Ghost in the Shell_ ; "Mia / Aiko" is an Expy of _The Major_ / _Motoko Kusanagi_ / _Mira Killian_ (a la the 2017 movie adaptation). Her two names have double meanings. Chapter 6 will then focus on another renegade agent named Samuel McManus.


	4. Chapter 4: Chloe

**Part #4:**

 **(Saturday, May 27th 2016)**

 **(6:00PM)**

 _ **BANG!**_

 _The doors burst open and the police charged in, their Colt M4A1 Carbines at the ready. Blood was stained all over from the living room to the kitchen, walls and all. The leader held his Colt Model 933 as he advanced on the four corpses, all of whom were adults with a puddle of blood surrounding each of them. A man and a woman were in a last embrace, each holding a weapon of some sorts. The man had dual Bowie knives, the woman had a customized Heckler & Koch MP5A3. He grimaced at the sight, a case or two that involved married couples in his past. _

_"Mom... Dad..."_

 _None of them involved a child, alive or dead._

 _The leader ordered two of his fellow officers to accompany him upstairs. Clearing corners and rooms one at a time, he reached the last room and slowly turned the knob before pushing the door open. A trail of blood-stained, size 3 footsteps led underneath the king-size bed. He gestured them to lower their rifles and hold their fire while keeping their guard up._

 _"Hello? My name is Lieutenant Donald Kestler. I work for the Danville Police Department. You're safe now."_

 _A moment's notice later, the child crawled out of its hiding place and slowly stood up. A 10-year-old girl at best, she had bleached_ _blonde hair and royal blue eyes. She wore a yellow and white sleeveless dress with black leggings, purple sandals, and a purple hair bow. She tightly clutched a blood-stained kitchen knife in her right hand, concerning the officers in the room with Kestler. The Lieutenant himself silently ordered his men to continue following his earlier order before crouching down to the girl's level._

 _"What's your name?"_

 _When she spoke, the girl had a_ _noticeable gap in her teeth, "Chloe... Chloe Carmichael."_

 _No one else was around, hinting the girl's single-sibling parentage, "My parents. Where are my parents?"_

 _Kestler shook his head in response, "I'm so sorry, Miss Carmichael."_

 _Chloe recoiled in despair and fell down to her knees, muttering "No..." numerous times as her eyes let tears flow from them. She let Kestler hug him out of sympathy and hesitated before she decided to return the hug. The warm hug was enough to defrost her potentially cold heart._

 _"Lieutenant Kestler! We got something!"_

* * *

 **(8:00PM)**

 _ **Hour #2. . .**_

 _Chloe sat in the Danville Police Station, hugging her knees as she continued her silent sobbing. Lieutenant Kestler had issued a manhunt on the other operatives involved with the double homicide, enlisting the aid of known FBI and CIA agents in the area. One would think that this decision would be difficult to enforce, but some of the agents who were approached knew Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael in their glory years; they agreed to help out as a result._

 _Two of those friends were also a married couple. John and Clarissa Trent were Clark and Connie Carmichael's long-time friends in high school and the reason why the Carmichael parents met each other. They agreed to help out for two primary reasons: One, they owed them a debt due to an long forgotten incident. Two, they haven't talked in years due to said long forgotten incident. Learning of their daughter Chloe, they become more and more motivated to find the people responsible._

 _This, despite not being actual FBI or CIA agents._

 _The Trents entered the police station, each wearing matching colors. John wore a dark grey suit jacket above a purple long-sleeve collared shirt and jet-black vest, dark grey dress pants, and black leather dress shoes; Clarissa donned a purple elbow-length (sleeve wise) dress, a pair of dark grey elbow-length gloves with black stockings, and black Mary Jane shoes. They both were arriving from a summer gala hosted by their old friend Nicole._

 _"Clarissa..."_

 _"I know, John. I know."_

 _"No, you don't. I... **We** haven't spoken to them in years. Now, we received a message that Clark and Connie had a daughter... It's too much for me."_

 _"For **you**? **You're** being the only one overwhelmed by all of this madness? Think again, honey. I feel guilty as well, considering how long has passed. Now, Chloe and her parents deserve justice, and they won't get it any sooner if we continue bickering about who's really in the wrong."_

 _"... You're right. I'm sorry, Clarissa, for getting mad at you."_

 _"Don't be, John. We all go a little mad sometimes. Besides...that's how you and I met."_

 _"Oh, please don't bring that up again." _

_Clarissa lightly laughed at John's faint flustered nature, but reverted back to her serious mannerisms the second they stepped into the conference room. Kestler turned to find the entrepreneur couple joining them._

 _"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Trent, it's a pleasure for you to join us."_

 _"The pleasure's ours," Clarissa spoke first, "Where is Chloe?"_

 _"She's in my office, Mrs. Trent. Be tactful, though. She's...not taking this well._ _"_

 _"Well, what child would?" John muttered under his breath as he walked away to find the Lieutenant's office. Clarissa sighed and followed her husband out, John not noticing his wife until she caught up with him. Entering the room, they found the girl in the same position she took when she first arrived in it._

 _"Chloe...?"_

 _Chloe indeed glanced up and uncurled from her position when she found the two unfamiliar people in the room with her, "Yes...?"_

 _Clarissa approached Chloe first, "My name is Clarissa Trent, and this is my husband John; we were...colleagues of your parents when we were younger, meaning that we were friends."_

 _"... You knew my parents?"_

 _"We did, Chloe." John stepped forward, "and we're so sorry for your loss."_

 _Chloe felt her eyes water up again: not out of despair, but hope. She lunged forward and hugged the both of them, a small smile growing. Clarissa and John smiled and hugged her back, John after a split second of hesitance._

 _'Well, some hope restored.'_

* * *

 **(10:00PM)**

 _ **Hour #4. . .**_

 _John and Clarissa laid on their king-size hotel bed, Chloe in a separate room a few feet from theirs. After talking with the Lieutenant, the couple agreed to take Chloe under their wing for an unspecified amount of time until the overall ordeal boiled over. Chloe didn't argue with this agreement._

 _After making sure that the two girls were sleeping soundly, John slowly slipped out of bed and sauntered to the living room, retrieving one of his travel bags. Lifting up and placing it on the dining table, he unzipped it open and pulled out a handgun. And another. And another. One after another, the 14 pistols he pulled out and placed on the table filled the volume of said table. A Beretta 92FS, a Beretta 90Two (seen in **Taken 2** ), a Taurus PT92AF, a Glock 17 3rd Generation, a Glock 19 3rd Generation, a Colt MK IV Series 70, a SIG-Sauer P226R, a SIG-Sauer P226 Elite Stainless, a SIG-Sauer P229R, a SIG-Sauer P229 E2, a Springfield Armory TRP Operator, a Smith & Wesson 10HB, a Smith & Wesson Model 640 Centennial, and a Ruger GP100 (Model 1715 with 3 inch barrel/stainless steel finish) were just among the other firearms the married couple had unknowingly received from Lieutenant Kestler. John cracked his knuckles and neck before beginning his firearms training procedural. _

_Here was the problem, though: John and Clarissa had absolutely no idea in the slightest how to handle any kind of gun available. Despite being trained in Krav Maga, Kali, and Brazilian Jiu-Jistu (Jeet Kune Do, Wing Chun, and Muay Thai in Clarissa's case), the both of them had never handled a weapon, let alone have a desire to use it. They were the kind of people who preferred to keep things close and personal with hand-to-hand combat._

 _They both knew, however, that this time would come eventually._

* * *

 **(12:00M)**

 _ **Hour #6. . .**_

 **("Way Down We Go" - Kaleo)**

Lynn, Sr. persistently paced around the living room as Rita, Lori, and eventually Luna looked on. It was now six hours following Lincoln's disappearance and whoever - no, _what_ ever - took him and raped that nurse is still out there. The police were doing the best they could to track them both down, but their efforts weren't enough in Lynn, Sr.'s case.

Rita stood up from the couch and placed a hand on Lynn's shoulders, prompting him to turn and face her.

"You're going to look for Lincoln, aren't you?"

Lynn huffed, "No... _we're_ going to look for Lincoln."

"Of course," Rita rolled her eyes as she and Lynn headed to their master bedroom. Lori and Luna, after exchanging confused glances, marched up right after them; they stopped when they reached said master bedroom. Inside, their parents rummaged through their closet and located mini suitcases for spare clothes for their trip. Opening the nightstand drawer, Lynn pulled out a Pre-War Colt M1911A1 and its additional ammunition; reaching the top shelf, Rita grabbed a Remington 870 Wingmaster with a 20" Home Defense Barrel and its spare shells. Loading the Colt .45 and holstering it in his DeSantis Holster, Lynn walked past his two daughters and Rita, who loaded her Remington 870 and pumped a shell into the chamber.

 _"Mom...?"_ Lori gulped.

Rita turned and faced her eldest daughters, "Lori... Luna... You're both in charge when we're gone."

Both girls were both in shock, Lori's jaw dropping and hanging; had not for her aforementioned shock, Luna would've done it as well, _"Me...?"_

"Yes, Luna, you're in charge." Lynn, Sr. walked back inside the house, having packed their luggage into the family van, "I know how much of a not-so-good idea it is, but I also know I can trust you and Lori to watch the others."

Lori nodded first, followed by Luna, who was still in shock upon the realization that Mom and Dad had placed her in charge. _Wow..._ _I'm in charge of something!_ She followed her older sister out the house and watched her parents drive away from the residence, an uncertain look in her eyes. Turning to Lori, Luna saw the same look in her eyes that shared confusion and doubt. They both knew why their parents left...

They just didn't know _exactly_ why they left.

* * *

 **(2:00AM)**

 _ **Hour #8. . .**_

 _Chloe walked down the snowy street of the town. She was dressed in a dark red winter coat with two white puff buttons/wrist cuffs, a white scarf, a pair of white mittens, a pair of red-and-white earmuffs, and a pair of blue winter boots with golden straps. Mirroring Lincoln's Beretta 92FS Centurion, a regular Beretta 92FS was holstered and hidden in her winter coat. Like Lincoln and Cristina, she had no idea how or why she was here. She was here, however, and that's what mattered at the moment. That, and she needed to find shelter._

 _Chloe ran down the snowy street this time. Much like a potential victim of a horror movie villain's massacre, she ran as if a serial killer was hot on its heels and wanting a piece. Unbeknownst to her, someone was **actually** following her...though not in the "serial killer" way:_

 ** _"Huh. What do you think is her deal, Jumbo?"_**

 ** _"She's scared, Mike. ... Why else would she be running?"_**

* * *

 ** _At the same time..._**

 _Lincoln stared at the animated subject before him: a china doll who seemed around his age...or size, in this case. The china doll in question ogled at him, a sense of hope in her growing smile. She suddenly lunged at him, a basic bear hug being her intention. _

_"Hello, Lincoln..."_

 _Lincoln's eyes widened at the china doll's voice. He had no idea how, he had no idea why..._

 _Lincoln just knew._

 _ **"Cristina...?"** _


End file.
